


Let Me Slap...With Love

by starfleetjedi



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Krispy Kreme, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetjedi/pseuds/starfleetjedi
Summary: Ben receives a highly inappropriate anonymous Valentine at work, which he proceeds to accidentally forward to his assistant, Rey.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 51
Kudos: 442
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts), Valentine's Day Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathDama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathDama/gifts).



> Based on [a prompt](https://twitter.com/DeathDama/status/1222238639264075779?s=19) by @DeathDama:  
>  **AU where Poe sends this to Ben on Valentine’s Day and the doofus accidentally forwards it to Rey who he’s very much not dating but pines over desperately**
> 
>   
> 

The lurid fuschia cardstock cut into a shape of an ideographic heart stands out in the middle of Ben Solo’s very pristine, very Spartan office floor. The edges of the card is lined with glued-on thin pink lace and smack dab in the center in sparkly silver glitter is the sentiment: LET ME SLAP MY DICK ON YA TONGUE WITH LOVE.

Oh god. Oh dear god.

Ben slams his door shut and picks up the offensive card, turning it over to see if it bears its sender’s name. There is nothing in the back. No name, no crude drawing of male genitalia, no “just kidding”--absolutely _nothing_.

He whips around his office, somehow hoping someone would jump out from behind his coat rack and yell “Gotcha!” He strides to his window and parts the blinds, hoping to catch the culprit would could be peeking in to catch his reaction. But he is alone.

Who in the world could have slipped this indecent Valentine under his door? He checks the time--it is seven-thirty in the morning. Employees don’t usually start filing in before eight; therefore, whoever scandalized his office floor must be in the building already.

Unless...someone who worked late last night did it.

Another possibility: the janitorial staff.

Ben is starting to get a headache, and he hasn’t even logged into his computer yet. He tosses the card onto the corner of his desk, as far away as possible from his workstation. He tosses a sheet of crisp white printer paper on top of it, covering up the card like a corpse.

The temptation to take the card out back and set it ablaze is strong, but he needs to find out who thought they could get a few laughs at his expense. Perhaps HR will have something that can pinpoint the unprofessional miscreant. If he shows Phasma the card, she might be swayed to show him the security footage from last night up to the minute he walked into the building this morning.

He jams a button on his desk phone. “Rey. Do you have my coffee?” he barks.

Almost immediately, his assistant, Rey bursts through the door. She is still wrapped up in her peacoat, scarf, and beanie, purse slung across her body, and two identical Starbucks cups in each hand. Apparently he beat her to work this morning, which is rare.

“Good morning, Mr. Solo. Here is your coffee.” She brings both cups up to her face, studying the labels, before setting down one of them in front of him. His cup has “Ben” written on it in thick black marker while hers has “Rae”. He grunts in thanks and takes a test sip.

“Line was extra long today. I literally just walked in. Do you mind if I put my stuff away first before I can help you with anything?” She starts to loosen her scarf with her free hand. That simple action causes his cock to twitch in his pants.

His unbelievably nubile, unbelievably off-limits assistant is starting to disrobe in his office. The thought of her kicking his office door shut and completely undressing makes him calculate the eventual clean-up needed should he decide to dramatically sweep all the items off his desk, allowing her to climb on top of it and spread her long, lithe legs apart--

“Mr. Solo?” She is waving her hand her scarf-holding hand in front of his face.

He clears his throat loudly. “I just needed my coffee.” He doesn’t elaborate further, so she takes it as a dismissal and slinks back outside while closing the door behind her.

Ben picks up his phone and dials the extension to HR. The line rings five times before a woman’s voice answers with a greeting.

“Phasma, I need a favor.”

*

In the end, Phasma is no help. Despite explaining the situation, snapping a picture of the lewd Valentine’s card, and e-mailing said picture to her, she reports back that there are no security cameras pointed at his office door.

“I could check the surrounding areas, see if anyone looks suspicious,” she had offered. “But don’t get your hopes up. This might take me a while.” Ben has no choice but to accept and be patient.

Except he is totally not the patient type.

He needs to know the card’s origin story _NOW_. He takes a pen and uses the cap end to lift a corner of the printer paper up. While he was on the phone with Phasma earlier, he had noticed that his fingers were dusted with silver glitter courtesy of the card’s lettering. He had spent nearly ten minutes in the washroom rubbing his hands raw, and he was not keen on a repeat performance.

He is starting to make out the word TONGUE when Poe, Marketing Director and Pain in Ben’s Ass, pushes the door open and strides into Ben’s office like he owns the place.

“Ben, my buddy.” Poe approaches with his arms wide open, one hand clutching a thin binder. “How’s it hangin’, ol’ pal?”

“What do you want, Dameron?”

Poe clutches his heart in mock pain. “I just wanted to see how you’re doin’, bud. It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.”

Ben’s eyes narrow into slits. “I can see that.” Beyond his open door, out in the world of cubicle-bound staff, heart-shaped pink and white paper cutouts hang on fishing line from the ceilings. Some desks are lined with elegantly twisted red crepe paper rolls, and someone even perched a small bowl of what looks like candy hearts--Ben can’t be certain from afar--on top of a cubicle divider.

“Well? Got yourself a date?” Poe presses.

Could Poe be the mystery Valentine culprit? Ben wouldn’t put it past him--Poe has been getting on his nerves since they first met in college, and Ben could totally see Poe fucking around with arts and crafts just to pull a cheap prank.

“Did you slip something under my office door before I got here?”

“What thing?”

Ben can’t tell if Poe is genuinely clueless or if he took acting lessons from Meryl Streep herself. The other man has absolutely no tell--he doesn’t fidget, he maintains eye contact, he doesn’t say or ask anything that could give him away.

So Ben tries again. “You know _what_ , Dameron.”

Poe shrugs and scratches his head. “No, Ben, I don’t know what.” He sighs deeply. “Look, man, you got me.”

Ben is about to say “Aha!” but Poe continues, “I do need something. Kay is out of the office right now and my people are swamped. We need about three more of these--” he raps his knuckles against the binder he’s been holding, “--by two, preferably one-thirty. Do you think Rey can help us out?”

“Fine,” Ben snarls. He snatches the binder out of Poe’s hand. “Leave it here. I’ll review and let her know.”

“It’s just a 50-page manual--”

“Double-sided, collated, hole-punched, with tab inserts. Three times. This isn’t _just_ a manual. Rey already has a million things to do, so I will review this and get back to you within the hour to let you know if _my_ assistant can assist _you_.”

Ben drops the binder onto his desk with a loud thud. “If that’s all, you may close the door behind you.” He spins in his chair and opens up a Word document, and begins typing gibberish as Poe retreats and closes the door behind him.

He doesn’t really need to review the binder. Rey can do the job in less than two hours; he just wanted to give Poe a hard time, especially since he is still on the list of suspects.

Rey is still out on her first fifteen-minute break so he sends her a quick text.

**BS:** Mktg is short staffed. Can you put together 3 manuals by 2 pm? I have the binder.

She texts back immediately.

**RK:** Sure can. If you leave the binder in my inbox I’ll get to it when I return.

 **RK:** Getting doughnut at KK right now. Would you like one?

 **BS:** No thanks

 **RK:** Btw, I hope you didn’t forget and you’re on your way to your meeting with Mr Hux

Ben gets on his computer and clicks over to his Outlook calendar. Sure enough, he has a meeting with the Chief of IT Department on the fourth floor in less than ten minutes. He must have missed the reminder ping when he was fucking around on Word to get rid of Poe.

Cursing under his breath, Ben grabs Poe’s binder and his laptop on his way out the door. He drops the binder into Rey’s inbox as instructed and power walks to the elevator. As the door slides open, he scoffs at the large red cut out of a rotund, infantile Cupid with a bow and arrow. He really hates Valentine’s Day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armitage Hux is a little intense.

Okay, he is a _lot_ intense.

From his severely slicked-back red hair, to the perma-scowl on his face, to his sharp and grating British movie villain accent. He also tends to pace around his desk with his arms clasped behind his back, all while declaiming the importance of e-mail security best practices and two-factor authentication, which apparently most exempt employees have chosen not to enable.

Ben wonders if all British people talk like Hux, but he remembers Rey. Rey with her singsong voice and perpetually sunny disposition. Months ago, after HR conducted a phone interview with Rey for her current position, the first thing Phasma reported to him was, “I could hear her smile over the phone.”

_Hux probably does not have the facial muscles to pull off a smile_ , Ben thinks. He surreptitiously glances at the time on his laptop’s taskbar. Has he really been listening to Hux drone on and on for over an hour?

He can’t concentrate. His mind keeps going back to the crafted monstrosity waiting for him on his desk. He goes through a list of people who might be responsible for it: Poe is number one. Hux is a maybe leaning towards highly unlikely. Poe’s annoying intern, Finn, could be one. He is always hanging around Rey’s desk, trying to get her to go to lunch with him. Maybe he wants to mess with Ben for keeping Rey too busy. Poe’s other intern, Beaumont or Beauford—whatever the fuck his name is—looks like a busybody, always peering down into someone’s cubicle to chat them up instead of doing actual work. If it’s not him, then he might know who. And why does Poe have so many interns and still come up short-staffed?

But then—what if a woman left the card? He can’t decide whether he wants Rey to have done it. On the one hand, if she didn’t, no harm done. BUT. What if she did? What does it all mean? Should he just ask her straight out if she did it, or know who did it? Of all the days for her to arrive late.

He desperately needs a Tylenol and another coffee. And to get out of Hux’s office. So he closes his laptop and straightens in his chair. “I have another meeting, so I really should get going.”

Hux stops mid-speech—something about a proposed weekly phishing test—and checks his watch.

Ben starts to gather his things and make his way to the door. “You can send out a test quarterly. Weekly is overkill. And—I think Phasma will agree with me here—but you can’t post names of those who fail on the intranet. We don’t want anyone going up to HR for targeted harassment.”

He watches as disappointment dawns on Hux’s face and makes a mental note to talk to Phasma about scheduling sensitivity training for the IT management team.

“Send me an e-mail with everything we just talked about and cc Rey,” Ben says before he sprints out there.

On his way to the elevator, he sends Rey another text.

**BS:** If you’re done with manuals, would you mind checking the first aid kit for Tylenol or something for a headache. And more coffee. Thanks.

He doesn’t get a text back.

When Ben arrives on his floor, Rey isn’t at her desk. Her inbox is empty, so she must be in the copy room. There is a half-eaten glazed doughnut on top of a paper towel next to her keyboard, along with a newer Starbucks cup with “Rei” scribbled on the side. She drinks as much coffee as he does, looks like.

She also wears peach lip gloss, as evidenced by the sheer stain on the lid.

Ben pictures Rey’s glossy lips wrapped around his cock, her small hands fisting his hard length, and her hazel eyes looking up at him in reverence. He wonders if she is able to take all of him down her throat, far enough until her lips leave the same stain around the base. Would she prefer he cum in her mouth, on her face, or all over her bare tits?

Suddenly his dress pants are feeling a little too tight.

He quickly strides into his office, locks the door, and pulls the blinds closed. His belt buckle clinks against his zipper as he hurries to free himself while simultaneously reaching for the box of tissues across his desk.

There is only slight relief when he closes his fist around his aching member. He shuts his eyes and pumps slowly—he imagines Rey straddling him. Eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted. She is wearing her pink sheath dress from this morning, her hands hiking the hem up to her waist. She isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Precum leaks from his tip and gathers around his thumb. He rubs it around the head, trailing it down his shaft, and he pictures Rey—one hand on his shoulder to steady herself, the other around his cock as she guides him arduously slow past her slick folds.

Ben starts to pump faster, grasping himself tighter. The fingernails on his free hand are digging holes into the armrest of his chair. He hisses and fights a soft groan that threatens to rip itself out of his throat. His imaginary Rey is bouncing on his cock now, her head thrown back in pure ecstasy and her hands buried in his hair. She is wet and tight and incredibly beautiful as her pussy clamps around him.

The tingling sensation in his balls swells as his strokes become more erratic. He is so close—he pulls a thought, not quite a memory, of Rey walking up to the counter at Starbucks and uttering his name as she places his coffee order. He imagines the sound of her voice saying it, her peach lips forming his name—“Ben.”

His other hand shoots out to grab for the box on his desk, and he shudders as he comes on a tissue. All the tense muscles in his jaw, neck, and shoulders involuntarily quake and relax as he continues to pump, finally slowing down when he feels himself softening.

He shamefully discards the spent tissue into his wastebasket, jostling it so the contents shift until the evidence of his self-debauchery is buried underneath a coffee cup and a handful of crumpled sticky notes. He rights his clothes, slathers on hand sanitizer, and gets up to unlock his door.

The good news is that his release cured his headache; the bad news is that Rey still hasn’t returned from the copy room, so he can’t ask her to abandon the hunt for headache medication. She also hasn’t texted him back. So he decides to send a follow-up text.

**BS:** Cancel the Tylenol. Just the coffee.

Then as an afterthought:

**BS:** Please

 **BS:** And thank you

He has some time to kill before his next meeting. He could go up to HR and personally get an update from Phasma regarding the Valentine debacle. He spins around to grab the card from his desk and—

Ben’s stomach plummets.

The card is gone.

He scurries over, wrenching drawers open and dropping to his knees in case it had somehow fallen and slipped beneath the desk. Did his headache cause temporary amnesia and he just can’t remember if he moved the card somewhere? He checks the trash, underneath his keyboard, and the space between the back of his chair and the lumbar support pillow.

The card has undeniably vanished.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and replays the entire morning in his head. He walked in to the card on his floor. He clearly remembers placing it on his desk and covering it with a piece of paper. Rey waltzed in with his coffee and he ogled her. He called Phasma about the security footage, then Poe barged in uninvited and waved the stupid binder in his face. Rey reminded him of his meeting with Hux, which prompted him to scramble about and—

—the card was under the binder. And he had swept the binder into his hand and dropped it into Rey’s inbox on his way out.

He is at Rey’s desk in four long strides. Still no sign of her. He peers around her workspace, careful not to touch anything. The card is nowhere to be found—not in her trash, not in her inbox or outbox, not anywhere on her desk. There isn’t even a trace of silver glitter.

Ben starts to hyperventilate. He can feel sweat bullets forming along his hairline, and he knows he needs to find her and explain the mistake away. There are a few places she could be at right now—copy room actually working; Marketing where her friend Rose is; Starbucks to fetch her over-caffeinated lecherous boss’ drink; Krispy Kreme for a fresh comfort doughnut; HR to file a sexual harassment complaint…

_Wait_.

HR. Phasma will recognize the card and set things right. He hurries back to his desk and hits redial.

Phasma sounds normal when she answers—that is, there is no ominous tone to her voice. Nothing that might indicate that she is having a conversation with a female employee regarding her superior slipping tacky homemade cards with inappropriate sentiments between her work files.

“I’m still looking, Ben,” Phasma says. He hears the faint sound of mouse clicks in the background.

“Yeah, good. But uh—has Rey come by to see you at all today?” He tries to sound casual. He even leans heavily on his desk and twirls a pen between his fingers. Phasma can tell if someone is smiling over the phone; can she tell if someone is about to shit his pants?

“Haven’t seen her today. Why?”

“Nothing. I thought she said she’d go up to the fifth floor. She must have meant fourth or something. Thanks, Phas.” He slams the receiver back down before Phasma gets nosey.

Ben whips out his phone and considers calling Rey. He hangs on the slight chance that he didn’t drop the card in her inbox by mistake. The door to his office is never locked during the day (except just a few minutes ago, but he digresses) so anyone could have slipped in while he was meeting Hux and Rey was making copies. Someone could have stolen the card. The culprit who slipped it under his door could have changed their mind and realized Ben Solo is not to be trifled with.

His thumb hovers over his phone screen, the messaging app’s cursor blinking patiently up at him.

**BS:** Where are you?

Ben doesn’t hit send just yet. He mulls it over because the message sounds demanding. He tacks on a smiley emoji at the end but deletes it immediately. Then he adds “Just checking”, but thinks it sounds suspicious upon his third reread. In the end, after staring at his phone for a good five minutes, he hits backspace, eliminating the question mark. There, more casual.

Until Rey returns, he knows there is nothing he can do right now. Worrying won’t help, and he certainly can’t panic and blow up her phone any more than he already has. He is heading back to his office to prepare for his next meeting when his phone vibrates in his hand.

Rey has responded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

When Rey wakes up bright and earlier than usual on February 13 th , she has a plan. This plan has been in place for at least a week, and she is going to do everything in her power to make sure it runs smoothly.

She spends an extra ten minutes in the shower shaving every unwanted hair she could find—on her arms, legs, between her legs. She even rips into the cardboard package of the facial razor that she had fished out of the dollar bin a year ago. The tiny razor skims the area between and around her brows, then her upper lip, and under her chin for good measure.

She rubs jasmine-scented lotion all over her body before slipping into a matching set of lacy black underwear. The hot pink dress with the low neckline and skirt that tapered elegantly down her legs was a treasure hidden amongst all the polyester and paisley-printed garbage on the clearance rack. The material feels silky smooth as she shimmies into it.

Her chestnut brown hair takes a while to tame, but she gets it to behave with a huge dollop of mousse and hairspray. Her makeup takes even longer before she eventually gives up and settles for understated—foundation to even out her skin tone, blush, mascara, and lip gloss. She should have done a dry run over the weekend for makeup and hair, but looking at her reflection, she thinks she’s doing pretty well this morning so far.

Everything was going great and she was making good on time until she steps into the Starbucks a block away from work and sees a dozen people already in line. Every night before bed she tells herself that she’ll use mobile ordering on the subway so she would only have to pick up when she arrives, but every morning she forgets.

Rey weighs her options: stay in line and lose about fifteen minutes or show up to work without Ben Solo’s coffee.

She doesn’t even need to consider it too hard because the second option is not viable. The man has caffeine coursing through his veins; he would fire her on the spot if she strolls in without his morning venti Dead Eye.

By the time she has coffee for Ben and “Rae” in her hands, she all but runs the rest of the way to work. When the elevator stops on every floor on the way up, she already knows her morning has been derailed. She makes it just in time to hear him ask for his drink over her speakerphone, so she bypasses her desk, jams her elbow down on the door handle to his office, and pushes her way in.

“Good morning, Mr. Solo,” she pants. “Here is your coffee.”

The combined effort of running from a block away, shoving past disgruntled employees in the crowded elevator, and all-around panicking finally catches up to Rey—she starts to feel hot and envisions sweat pooling under her breasts and soaking the expensive lace of her fancy bra. She unbuttons her pea coat and tugs her scarf to loosen it.

Ben’s eyes glaze over; she can tell by the dulled twinkle in his chocolate orbs that he is deep in thought—of what, she doesn’t know. But he is frozen in place, his cup suspended just inches from his slightly parted lips.

Rey waves her palm in front of his face. “Sir?” He doesn’t respond the first time so she tries again, a little louder this time. 

“Mr. Solo?”

That seems to do the trick, because he snaps out of whatever vision quest he was on, his gaze sharpening and settling back on her.

“I just needed my coffee,” he mutters.

She waits for him to say something else, perhaps order her to run a report or grab him a bagel from the break room, but he just sits back and takes another sip of his coffee.

_ Okay, then _ , she thinks as she nods and excuses herself, closing the door behind her.  _ He is not in the mood for small talk. _

The morning might not have gone according to plan, but not all is lost.

“It’s fine, Rey. It’s okay,” she tells herself as she drapes her pea coat across the back of her chair and flings her beanie into her desk drawer. In the months that she has worked as Ben Solo’s assistant, not once has he ever arrived to work earlier than she has. The one time she actually plans on it, he beats her there.

The plan had been to intercept Ben before his workday started. She was supposed to be nonchalantly watering the ficus between her desk and his office door, in her form-fitting pink dress and done up hair, and she was going to small talk him into divulging his Valentine’s Day plans. Then she would innocently drop an invitation for after-work drinks tonight at Mos Eisley Bar with the rest of the office. 

As a colleague.

Not as…like, her date.

Nope. No.

Because Rey can’t possibly date her boss. That would be unethical, inappropriate, probably illegal in some territories—

—and extremely hot. Spicy hot. Working for Ben Solo has been the most stressful, most exhilarating job Rey has ever had.

There is nothing wrong with harboring a deep-seated crush on her direct supervisor, as long as she doesn’t act upon it. It’s not her fault—and certainly not his—that her cunt involuntarily clenches every time he walks into a room or opens his mouth or breathes in her general direction. In fact, she almost quit on her first day when Phasma introduced her to tall, dark, and handsome Ben Solo, Chief Operations Officer. And when Phasma told her she would be working “under him” as his executive assistant, Rey damn near wet herself. If rent, food, and Internet were free, she really would have walked out.

Anyway, inviting her boss for drinks  _ with fellow coworkers _ is decidedly  _ not _ against any HR rules. Rey checks the Employee Handbook each week, just in case Phasma quietly slips in an addendum regarding inter-office relationships.

Except now, Ben has locked himself in his office and she will probably not see him again for the rest of the day. She knows his schedule, after all—back to back meetings, with very little window in between for idle chit-chat.

She pulls up his calendar and goes through his meetings lined up for the day. She could cancel his ten o’clock with Hux—he always complains about those, about how Hux can launch into impassioned speeches about servers and data and cybersecurity, and barely give Ben room to get a word in edgewise.

She could also postpone his afternoon conference call with Calrissian Corp. Jannah, Lando Calrissian’s assistant, is easy enough to work with; Rey could sweet talk her into moving stuff around early next week. But then last week, she did overhear Ben tell someone over the phone that he is looking forward to his call with Calrissian Corp.

Rey goes through the list one more time, and when she finds no meetings that she can justifiably cancel or postpone on Ben’s behalf without his permission, she gives up. She will have to get creative, and fast. She had gotten too cocky, failed to formulate a contingency plan for this event, and now that overconfidence is biting her in the ass.

Ben’s door suddenly wrenches open and he flies past her. He gets a few steps in before Rey shoots up and strides after him. She is about to call his name when he makes a sharp turn towards the men’s restroom.

“Fuck,” she curses. Well, she can’t follow him there. Dejectedly, she huffs and makes her way back to her desk, and resolves to get some actual executive assisting done to take her mind off her slowly unraveling game plan.

Much later, Ben is wringing his hands as he stalks back into his office. She checks the time—he has a few minutes to spare before his next meeting. Now is her chance—it’s not enough time, but she has to take it.

Before she can even get up from her seat, her phone rings. The screen indicates Rose from Marketing is calling. Without even thinking, she picks up the receiver.

“Buy one, get one free doughnuts at Krispy Kreme if you answer their trivia question correctly. Let’s go,” Rose fires off without even a ‘hello’.

“I can’t,” Rey says.

Rose emits a noise that sounds like a prolonged ‘ugh’. “Come on, loser. Take an early fifteen. Solo won’t notice.”

_ He sure won’t _ , Rey thinks bitterly. He never does. He didn’t even spare her a glance when he returned from the loo.

“Think about it—melt-in-your-mouth original glazed, fresh out the oven,” Rose says smoothly. “And you get two.”

It doesn’t take much to convince Rey, especially as she watches Poe Dameron barge into Ben’s office. She couldn’t possibly follow-up that disastrous surprise visit and expect Ben to be in a good mood. “Alright, fine. Meet you downstairs.”

*

The preppy twenty-something guy behind the counter at Krispy Kreme is giving Rose another stab at the trivia question she has gotten wrong twice now when Rey gets a text from Ben about a project due later in the afternoon.

She deliberates just inviting him for drinks via text, but decides against it. She didn’t get dolled up for nothing, and she should at least get the chance to bat her eyelashes at him before he declines her invitation.

Rose gets the answer right the fourth time, so with four doughnuts between them, they stop by Starbucks next door to refill on coffee. This time, they spell her name “Rei”, which is a more valiant effort compared to yesterday’s “Rhea”, but no better than this morning’s “Rae”.

“They’re never going to get your name right,” Rose quips as they walk back to their building.

Rey snorts. “Bet money?”

“How about a KK box—all doughnuts of my choosing—if Starbucks doesn’t get your name right by close of business Friday next week?”

“Our COB or theirs?”

“Ours.”

“And are you going to share the box?”

“With you? Nope. You will have lost the bet, so no doughnut for you.”

Rey pouts. “What do I get if I win?”

Rose scrunches her face, deep in thought. She is still thinking as they step into the empty elevator with the Cupid cutout at work, both of them now down to one doughnut each.

Finally, “I’ll be your wing woman for a week, and we’ll get you Solo.”

“Rose!” Rey hisses, looking frantically around the elevator for hidden cameras and microphones. The last thing she wants is some nosy person down at security forwarding elevator footage to Phasma of Rey and Rose discussing seduction tactics towards the COO.

“What? You still have a crush on him, yeah? Is that why you’re extra pretty today? Will he be joining us tonight?”

“I don’t know what he’s doing tonight. And what part of ‘let’s keep this a secret’ and ‘tell you in confidence’ do you not remember? There are cameras in here.”

Rose waves her remaining doughnut in Rey’s face dismissively. “Poe said no one checks those unless this thing breaks or power goes out. I don’t even think it has audio. What are they gonna do? Read my lips?” Then she looks straight at the black sphere in the top corner by the elevator door and whispers, “Rey wants to suck—”

Rey jams her doughnut into Rose’s open mouth. “Stop! We don’t know what Phasma is capable of. I heard from Poe she can read auras, that’s why she’s so good at HR-ing.”

Rose chews on the big chunk she took out of Rey’s snack. “Poe is a gossip,” she says between bites. “Don’t believe everything he says.”

“But you believe what he said about these elevators?”

Rose just shrugs. The elevator dings when they reach the third floor, and they part ways—Rose back to Marketing in the east wing with their bright yellow and purple walls and open-plan offices, and Rey back to the lone desk right outside Ben’s door in a secluded corner of the west wing. She wishes the closest desk to hers wasn’t twenty feet away, so she could at least have someone to talk to during the day.

The binder in her inbox isn’t too thick. She rifles through it briefly as she sips on her coffee, gauging how much work she’d have to put in it, and deduces that three manuals will probably take her an hour to complete. So no rush.

Rey proceeds to answer her e-mails, schedule Ben’s meetings for the following week, check Amazon to see if the price for a 4-pack of sports bras she has been eyeing had dropped, and read through Rose’s list of twelve donuts she wants, which includes screenshots from the Krispy Kreme online menu.

After nearly an hour, she grabs her phone, Poe’s manual, and the additional documents underneath it then heads to the supply closet for three new binders. She then takes the elevator down to the second floor copy room where they have newer machines and gets to work.

It takes her a few minutes to prepare the machine for copying and printing—she had to make sure all the pages were where they should be, that the machine is set to print three copies double-sided and collated, and that there would be enough toner for the project. Once she presses the bright green Start button, she leans back against the wall and grabs her phone.

She is about to text Rose a silly selfie when she remembers the documents that were under the binder. She flips the binder over and sees a plain sheet of printer paper. Puzzled, she tosses the sheet aside and—

“What the fuck?” She leans over, doesn’t touch the heart-shaped card. She reads the glittery silver words and rears back.

Does that mean what she thinks it means? Did Ben do this?

She turns to her phone and scrolls down her contacts until she lands on Dopheld Mitaka. She has never texted him before, but has his number solely because she has every one of Ben’s direct reports’ contact info.

**RK:** Hey Dopheld. This is Rey. Did you happen to see who put stuff in my inbox this morning?

**DM:** Hi Rey!

**DM:** Just Ben shortly after you took your break. I don’t recall seeing anyone else come by.

At the same time, she receives a text from Ben asking her to grab him a Tylenol and more coffee. She wants to respond with a picture of the card he left her and ask him who gave him the right to text her like he didn’t just proposition her during work hours.

All the thoughts in Rey’s head are whirling around in a tornado of confusion, elation, and tension. There is so much going on and she doesn’t know what to feel or think first. So she tries to rein them all in according to the most menial and inconsequential to the most daunting.

First, she needs to calm down and concentrate on completing all three manuals. Then she can drop them off at Poe’s office and get that out of the way. Second, go downstairs and get a fresh venti Dead Eye for Ben. Third, stop by the main break room for Tylenol—one for Ben, one for her. Fourth…confront Ben about all this. The fourth step is a huge leap from the first three, but she has time to work herself up to it.

Rey replaces the blank sheet over the card—out of sight, out of mind—then stuffs her phone into the pocket of her dress. She takes a deep breath through her nose, slowly counting from one to ten as she exhales through her mouth. She continues her breathing exercise until the printer’s whirring stops and she feels relatively calmer.

She wills her mind to go blank as she spends the next few minutes separating the copies, hole-punching them, and stuffing them into the binders. The trip from the second floor to Poe’s office is quick—the entire Marketing team is in a conference room for their weekly huddle so Rey doesn’t have to stop by Rose’s desk or be roped into an uncomfortable conversation with Finn where he will usually try to invite her out to lunch or dinner. She drops the binders in the middle of Poe’s desk and makes her way back to the elevator. Step one, done.

Rey’s phone vibrates a few more times but she keeps her hand away from her pocket. She has a simple four-step plan in motion and she is seeing it through with a one-track mind. Her original plan for the day has already been utterly wrecked, so she desperately needs something to go the way she intends it to.

She keeps the card in one hand, the blank sheet folded over the front of it, because she isn’t about to go out in public waving around a card that is begging for a blowjob.

Once she has Ben’s new drink—step two, done—she walks briskly back to her building and proceeds to the main break room to raid the first aid kit on the wall. She grabs two individual packets of generic acetaminophen and stuffs them in her pocket—step three, done.

She’s doing great. One more thing to do.

Her phone vibrates again. Getting annoyed now, she sets his drink and the covered card down on a table and fishes her phone out. Ben has texted her several times.

**BS:** Cancel the Tylenol. Just the coffee.

“Too late now,” she mutters as she reads.

**BS:** Please

**BS:** And thank you

**BS:** Where are you

She probably shouldn’t respond. He can wait a couple of minutes until she’s back on their floor where they can retreat into his office and she can ask him about the card, and then—

And then, what? 

If he owns up to giving her the card, is she going to grant the glittery request on it like some sort of sex genie? Because Rose hadn’t been lying when she tried to tell the elevator camera Rey’s dirty secret. And she isn’t going to act like she had never fantasized about Ben, of letting him bend her over his desk and take her from behind. Of crawling under his desk, freeing him from his pants, and sucking him off during one of his conference calls.

The opportunity is being handed to her on a hot pink card.

She is typing a message when she walks into the elevator.

  
**RK:** On my way back now.


	4. Chapter 4

Ben is pacing in his office. He doesn’t know how far away Rey is, if she’s even in the building or getting his coffee outside. When he got her text, he wanted to stand by the elevator and wait for her there. But he came to his senses and realized how creepy that would have looked. So he stayed in his office to wear out the soles of his shoes.

He jumps when he hears a knock on the door, followed by the handle turning and Rey slipping in wordlessly before shutting the door behind her. He hears a soft click, but can’t tell if it is the lock engaging.

Ben takes a good look at Rey for the first time since she walked in that day. He doesn’t think he’s seen her wear that pink dress before. Her hair is down and swept to the side, free from the three buns she usually wrangles them in. Her lips are shiny and peachy, accentuating her rosy cheeks and the warm glow of her hazel eyes. She wears a guarded expression as they stare each other down.

“Rey—” He doesn’t get to finish, all the better because he doesn’t know what to say anyway. It takes her only two steps to close the gap between them, for her finger to press against his lips.

“Please, don’t say anything,” she whispers. Her mouth is so close. He can feel her hot breath on his chin and smell sweet notes of jasmine. “If you do, I might lose my nerve, and I would really like to get this right.”

He wants to protest, but she holds up a folded piece of white paper. Peeking from the fold is pink lace on fuchsia cardstock. She tosses it to the table where it skids across the wood, coming to a stop next to his laptop.

“I admit, this is a little strange but you’ve never struck me as an ordinary man.”

Ben gulps. He really should say something now. It’s not like her fingers are literally pinching his lips together. Why can’t his lips move?

Rey must have taken his silence as compliance and permission to do the next thing—she moves her hand from his lips to his chest and pushes, just enough to make him stumble back into his chair with a gasp. She looks like she is about to apologize for startling him, but her expression steels as she braces both hands on the arms of the chair, effectively trapping him.

“Rey,” he attempts again, but she leans close, her chin on his shoulder.

“What did I say about staying quiet?” He swears he feels her lips graze his ear lobe. Chills run down his neck to his spine, and he shudders at the thought of her whispering dirtier things in his ear. “On second thought, you may speak. One word only—my name.”

All the blood in Ben’s body rushes to his cock. If his pants zipper could scream, he and Rey would be deaf by now. He wants to pinch himself to confirm that this is all real, that his beautiful assistant and subject of many inappropriate office fantasies is practically on his lap, that her face is so close he could kiss her if he just turned a few inches to the right.

She smells heavenly, and from this close, her dewy skin looks so soft. His hand aches to touch her, to kiss her full lips, and tell her that he’s dreamed of this day the moment Phasma presented her to him. He wants her to know that she is brilliant and kind and he appreciates her, despite his cold demeanor towards her and everyone else in the building. But most of all, he wants to hear her moan his name.

Rey leans back and locks eyes with Ben, and _oh_ , if that doesn’t frighten him. A myriad of emotions are reflected in her eyes—uncertainty, determination, a hungry ferocity as she licks her lips. “I’ve never done this before, so I’d like you to manage your expectations.”

Her gaze shifts lower, and Ben can’t help but feel a hint of pride when she gasps at the straining tent in his pants. She cups the bulge, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. He sincerely hopes she locked the door because if anyone tries to walk in, he can’t guarantee they’ll live to see the next day.

It’s hard to concentrate on much else when he is so captivated by her small hands massaging his erection, but her voice breaks through the trance he has unknowingly slipped into. “I know your Valentine doesn’t ask for it, but may I kiss you?”

She is watching him. He doesn’t know how long she’s been watching him, so entranced he was with her ministrations, but she looks hopeful and she is biting her lip. He should be doing that instead.

Ben surges forward, one hand snaking around Rey’s neck to cradle the base of her skull and keep her in place as his lips crash into hers. Her mouth opens instinctively, and he wastes no time accepting the invitation. His tongue tastes her thoroughly; each swipe elicits a feral growl he doesn’t think would come from a sweet thing like her. Her hands shift to his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his dress shirt.

He nibbles on her bottom lip before drifting to her jaw line, placing open-mouthed kisses down the arch of her throat. She tilts her head back to allow him better access to her neck. He would have been perfectly happy just kissing her, but she pulls away after he spends a few seconds on her clavicle.

“We’ll have time for kisses later,” she says soothingly. She brushes back a strand of his hair from his eyes and presses a kiss to his temple. “You made a request and I’m going to deliver. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

There is a lot to unpack from that statement, but he recognizes that now is not the time, no matter how much he wants her to confirm that the attraction and pining are mutual. Because obviously it is. He isn’t forcing her to do anything, and she seems eager to be doing this to him.

Rey struggles to get his belt off. It’s one of the hole-less ones with a buckle that has a lever at the bottom. Not very common, so he doesn’t blame her when she glares daggers at it.

“Sir,” she whimpers when her fingers fail to find the hidden clasp. He is tempted to kiss her frown away because she really does look cute when she is huffing in annoyance, and he isn’t entirely sure how else to react to her calling him ‘sir’ while attempting to satiate their thirst for each other.

He undoes the buckle with one hand, the other now resting on her shoulder. She pulls the belt from the loops furiously and flings the entire thing to the other side of the office. A silent ‘fuck this thing’. She makes quick work of the rest of his pants until it, too, joins the belt.

Rey hesitates only for a split second when Ben is down to his boxer briefs. He squeezes her arm lightly, and he hopes she feels what he is trying to say. That it’s okay if she wants to stop and back out, that he won’t be mad. Maybe they can try again another time, perhaps after he’s taken her out on at least three dates.

But she doesn’t retreat. Instead, she hooks her fingers under the waistband of his briefs and pulls down. He lifts his hips to assist her, and then his cock springs free.

Her lips soundlessly form the word “fuck” as she stares at him. He has never been more nervous in his life, so he doesn’t understand why he is getting harder by the second instead.

She restlessly wiggles before settling into a comfortable kneeling position between his legs. When Rey said earlier that she has never done _this_ before, Ben realizes _this_ meant giving a blowjob. He can tell by the way she studies him, her hands tentatively gripping the shaft as she decides from which angle to come in. Her pink tongue darts out to lick the head and the slit before she takes him into her mouth an inch at a time, breathing shallowly as she descends.

Her hands are wrapped around the base of his cock, keeping herself steady as she bobs her head up and down. When his length is thoroughly coated with her spit, she starts to pump her hands in tandem with her mouth, incorporating a slight squeeze and a twist with every repetition.

Rey isn’t looking at Ben. Nevertheless, he can see her eyes are closed, cheeks flushed, peach lips wrapped tightly around his cock. He wants to keep this image of her for all eternity, frame it and hang it inside his skull and add more to the collection—of Rey writhing on top as she impales herself on him, of the shape of her ass as he bends her over his desk and fucks her from behind, of the blissed out look on her face as he laps at her cunt.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel the tingle in his balls, growing tenser when she swipes her tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Rey,” he moans. His fingers thread through her hair, not pulling or pushing, but applying just enough pressure to let her know that he is coming. She has the choice to stay and swallow, or get out of the line of fire.

In response, she sucks harder and moves one hand to his balls. He trembles, knows what’s coming, and squeezes her shoulder in warning. She keeps his cock in her mouth, tongue swirling around the tip. Thick, warm ropes of come shoot into the hollows of her cheeks as he muffles a moan by biting into his fist.

She continues to pump and stops when he is fully spent and his labored breathing slows. When she releases him, he deftly reaches for the box of tissues in his drawer. He offers her one so she doesn’t have to wipe her mouth on the back of her arm.

“We need to talk,” he finally says.

*

First, Rey fetches Ben’s coffee—now cold—which she forgot on her desk when she set it down to take off her peacoat. Then she takes the seat across his desk, hands crossed on her lap, waiting patiently as Ben tucks himself back into his pants.

For the most part, Rey doesn’t seem upset. When Ben explains the mysterious origins of the card and his mistake, he peppers apologies wherever he can, ending with an offer to have Mitaka accompany her to Phasma’s office so she can file a sexual harassment complaint.

“For what? For forcing you to jam your cock down my throat? If anything, _you_ should file a complaint against _me_ ,” she says. “You were trying to stop me, and I didn’t let you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t…try too hard,” he says weakly.

“That doesn’t matter, sir. I barged in here, stripped you naked, held you against your will, and assaulted you with my mouth.” She at least has the grace to keep her volume at a respectable level. Who knows how good Mitaka’s hearing is.

“It didn’t quite happen that way—anyway, I completely understand if you would like to request a transfer, or again, file a complaint with HR.” His eyes soften as he gazes at her from across his desk. “As your direct supervisor, it is my responsibility to make sure you are able to do your job well, unencumbered by the threat of possibly losing said job should you dissatisfy me in any way—”

“Did I not satisfy you, sir?” Her eyes are wide and doleful as she peers up at him. “Are you going to fire me?”

“What? No—I meant. No. No, I’m not going to fire you. No, of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong.” he stammers. This must be what it feels like to walk on a tightrope twenty stories up during a windy day.

“But did I satisfy you?”

Ben stares back at her. He can’t tell if she is toying with him because her poker face is flawless. “Yes,” he says slowly. “You did.”

A small smile, innocent and sweet. “Then there is nothing to report.”

Then Ben remembers something. He’s been meaning to ask since she said it. “How long—” he pauses, unsure of how to word his question without sounding like he needs an ego stroke. He’s been stroked enough for the day, he thinks. “How long—this thing.” He waves a finger between them. “For me.” He is an idiot.

Rey cocks her head to one side, clearly amused by his sudden speechlessness. “You mean how long have I fancied you?”

He nods lamely.

She leans across the desk, resting her chin on her hands thoughtfully. “Probably a week after I started. I finished a report two days early, and you said ‘good girl’ when I handed it to you.”

Ben remembers that day. He hadn’t meant to say that to her, but he was on the phone, on hold for seventeen minutes, and clearly absent-minded. There was no outward reaction from her when the words escaped his lips, so he pretended like it wasn’t a big deal until she left his office. Clearly, that was not the case. His little slip-up is the root cause of all this—the stupid card was just the catalyst for their tryst.

He watches the smile fade from her lips as she straightens up in her seat. “I’m sorry, here I am flirting and assuming you feel the same—”

“I do. I feel it, too,” he interjects. He is done making her feel bad and scared and wrong about what just happened. “I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.”

“Oh.” She seems surprised by the revelation.

“But like I said, I’m your supervisor. Making a move on you would be improper.”

“Okay.” She fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “If I weren’t your assistant, would you have made a move?”

Ben doesn’t like to think of not having her greet him in the mornings when he walks into the office. He would miss her sitting at the desk just outside his door. But the thought of having her in his bed every morning instead—now that is a gamechanger. “I would do everything in my power to make you mine,” he declares.

When he doesn’t answer, she says, “I think I need to talk to Phasma.” He is about to ask why, but she stands up and taps the table. “You have a video call with Rogue One Entertainment in about five minutes. I’ll just run up to HR in the meantime. I should be back before your call ends.”

Rey backs up, practically racing out of his office as soon as the door is within reach. At the same time, Ben straightens his shirt and runs his fingers through his hair. He still has business to take care of after all.

*

Much later, after Ben wraps up his video call that he was mentally absent for, Rey pokes her head in and he motions for her to enter. She is smiling, and he hasn’t heard from Phasma yet, so maybe she didn’t go up to HR to complain.

She crosses her legs as she returns to her seat. “You will probably hear from Phasma soon, but I want to tell you first. I applied for the Marketing Coordinator position with Poe’s team.”

Ben’s fist clenches. She’s leaving him?

“She said there aren’t many applicants, so I’m practically a shoo-in. The Marketing team likes me, I know how the company works, so they won’t have to waste too much time training me,” she says brightly. He doesn’t understand why she looks happy. “You will need to get a new assistant.”

Oh.

He’s a bit slow today.

She gets up and walks around to sit on the edge of the desk close to him. “You will no longer be my supervisor.” Her calf nudges his knees apart. “No conflict of interest.”

His hand flies to her thigh, rubbing her over her skirt. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

She shrugs. “You’re having drinks with us tonight, sir.” It’s not a request. She calls him sir, but her tone is commanding. He has never been so turned on. “Then I’d very much like to spend Valentine’s Day with you, starting at midnight”

Ben could only nod as she bends down for a kiss.

*

**SORT OF EPILOGUE BUT NOT REALLY**

Mos Eisley Bar smells like sweat and dirt—it is probably the seediest watering hole this side of New York, but the entire office likes it here because the drinks are cheap and strong and there is a karaoke machine that charges two dollars per song. It also helps that it is very close to their building.

Rose has roped Rey into a very off-key version of a song about touching oneself while thinking of someone else. Ben watches slack-jawed as Phasma, HR Manager, claps and hollers at the saucy lyrics belted by her employees. Technically, this gathering doesn’t count as office hours, so Phasma has no sway on anyone’s behavior.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?”

Ben groans at the sound of Poe’s voice. Poe slips into the empty barstool next to him and taps his beer bottle against Ben’s lowball glass.

“What made you decide to come out?” Poe asks excitedly.

Ben takes a sip of his whiskey. “Nothing better to do.”

The office is now chanting Phasma’s name, egging her to pick a song. Poe sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles. Ben scowls at the shrill noise piercing his eardrums.

“Hey, sorry about that card. Beau, Finn, and I had a bet going that you’d freak the fuck out on the entire floor when you got it, but we didn’t hear shit from you all day. Color me impressed.”

At this, Ben whirls his stool to face Poe. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

Poe chuckles, clearly unbothered by Ben’s reaction. “I knew you’d keep your cool. Won me a nice ol’ hundo,” he says, winking.

“You were betting on my reaction? To an ugly, lewd card?” Ben tries not to raise his voice too much.

Poe raises a hand to his chest and pretends to look scandalized. “I take offense to that. That card took me three fucking hours to make. My hands were covered in glitter for two days.”

“Good. Offense! All the offense!” Ben hisses. “It was uglier than a bag of assholes, Dameron. I fucking hate you.”

Poe is full on guffawing at this point. He claps Ben’s shoulder and hops off the stool. “You’re a good sport, Ben. I hope you didn’t show Rey or Phasma that card, though.”

“I should tell Phasma you and your idiot interns are gambling at work,” Ben threatens.

Poe laughs and makes a clicking sound with his teeth while pointing gun fingers at Ben, then disappears into the crowd.

From the stage, Rey catches his attention as she hands the mic over to Phasma. She flashes him a small smile, which to some people might look like she is just smiling to the whole room. But he knows. It’s for him.

Ben pulls out his phone and types a text to Rey.

**BS:** FYI, in some parts of the world, it’s already midnight.

He watches as she shuffles towards the wall and fishes her phone out of her purse. She grins and types.

**RK** : Good to know lol

He rolls his eyes and fiddles with an app, then types out a response that is sure to light a fire under her ass.

**BS** : My calendar says I’m scheduled to eat you out at midnight.

It takes her less than a minute to respond.

**RK** : I can’t believe you actually put that in your Outlook calendar!!!!

 **RK** : You had better hope Phasma doesn’t have access

 **RK:** Letting Rose know I’m leaving early. Meet you back at the parking lot ;)

Ben is grinning wildly as he slips out of the bar.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @omgreylo! :)


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